


Cousin Ferumbras' Darling

by Tehri



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Advice, Anxiety, Coping Mechanisms, Family Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Platonic Relationships, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 20:37:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16182746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tehri/pseuds/Tehri
Summary: In the wake of the death of Lalia Took née Clayhanger, Pearl is faced with the rumours of how she had intentionally taken the old hobbit's life. Without knowing how to cope with suddenly being rumoured to be a murderer, she pours her heart out to the only hobbit who could possibly understand - her cousin Ferumbras, Lalia's only child.





	Cousin Ferumbras' Darling

Pearl dabbed at her eyes with the offered handkerchief. Her day really was not turning out as she’d hoped it would.

It had been a year to the day since all hell had broken loose, and she had visited the Great Smials for the first time since the incident that had become the first black stain on her reputation. Her family was with her – stars knew her father would never have let her go on her own, not with all the cruel rumours still floating about. But she felt ever so alone, and she sought solitude more than the comfort of her parents or aunts.

Pimpernel and Pervinca had tried to understand, but they couldn’t. They had not been called on to be Lalia’s attendant, and Pearl couldn’t for the life of her convey what that had been like through words alone. To be treated like dirt, to be yelled at and called incompetent and stupid, to be called every name under the sun simply for existing. No, Lalia had never been a kind mistress, and Pearl was almost glad that she was gone.

Had it not been for her own clumsiness, she would perhaps have avoided falling into hot water. But the chair had been so heavy – and so had Lalia – and Pearl was only a lass in her tweens. She had done the same thing so many times, and it never got easier. And that day, when the wheels finally jumped over the threshold, Pearl had stumbled forward and lost her grip on the chair, watching in horror as it flew forward and down the garden steps.

She knew about the whispers that went around, knew only too well that people thought she had done it on purpose. That she had lost her temper and patience and simply decided that it needed to be over and done with. And with those whispers following her on this visit to the Smials, Pearl had decided to go into the garden to get a little bit of privacy and to have a quiet cry in a corner somewhere.

She glanced up at the old hobbit beside her. Ferumbras watched her with kind eyes and smiled gently at her, waiting for her to return the handkerchief he’d given her. If any hobbit knew what Pearl had been through, it was Ferumbras; he had been there, after all, while Pearl had been his mother’s attendant, and he had comforted her and offered her a shoulder to cry on when the shouting and name-calling became too much. Some evenings she had spent in his quarters, talking and crying and simply attempting to set her head straight again, and he had never turned her away. He’d held her close when she wept, he’d stroked her hair, and he’d told her that it would get better, that she would be alright.

Even when the matter was looked into more thoroughly and Pearl was still a wreck after the accident, Ferumbras had never blamed her. If anything, he had almost praised her and said that she had broken the shackles that held him prisoner for over eighty years. “My darling”, he’d called her, and it had grown to be more common for that endearment to pass over his lips when speaking to and of her than her actual name.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she returned the handkerchief to him. “I’m a mess.”

“You are only a lass, my darling,” Ferumbras said kindly. “No one, not even old Bullroarer, could have been expected to carry all that is on your shoulders without crying.”

“But it’s been a year,” Pearl mumbled dejectedly. “A whole year, and it doesn’t stop. People still talk. I can scarcely show myself away from the farm without hearing them whisper behind my back.”

“People,” Ferumbras said with a snort, “lead boring lives and need something to talk about. Occasionally, their minds turn to cruel things. It is simply the way of things, I’m afraid.” He placed one hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “But what happened was an accident. Folk know that very well indeed, but they are wont to mumble about rumours all the same. You mustn’t listen to them.”

“I wish I had your confidence.” Pearl placed one hand over his on her shoulder, hoping to keep it there just a little while. “But that isn’t the way of things. I’m just a stupid lass, bawling my eyes out over what people say about me.”

“You mustn’t call yourself that.” He shook his head when she glanced up at him, a disapproving frown on his face. “Pearl, you are a very intelligent lass, and I shan’t have you speaking ill of yourself near me.”

Pearl only smiled weakly and turned her face away. Ferumbras meant well, of course, but there were some things that were difficult to stop doing or thinking. He seemed to have made it his mission to make her think better of herself, even before his mother’s passing. Pearl had come to the Great Smials as a tweenager confident in her abilities and in her wit. But over time, that confidence had slowly but surely been whittled down. If a person is told every day that they are stupid and worthless, they will eventually believe it deep down.

“And as for my confidence, well,” Ferumbras continued. “It isn’t quite as you think, my darling. Of course I listen to what people say – I scarcely have a choice in that. And of course it affects me. People think me odd and unsociable. My jokes are too crass or depressing; my way of handling matters is too straightforward. I don’t think before I speak. I’m too isolated.” He laughed suddenly, and as Pearl glanced up at him again she found him grinning brightly at her. “All fairly accurate descriptions, I must admit, and they do occasionally cause me to doubt myself. But do you know what thought pulls me through? It is simply this: why should I put so much weight on what is said by people who don’t know me?”

“Public opinion is-“ Pearl began, but was quickly interrupted by her cousin:

“Oh, don’t get me started on that nonsense! I have been the Thain of the Shire since my father’s death twenty-three years ago, and I daresay I’ve not run our little land into the ground. There are no laws that say the Thain must like people or tell certain jokes or handle matters a certain way. I am who I am, and if they don’t like it, well, they can at least take solace in the fact that nothing is worse than it was two decades ago.” He moved his hand, carefully sliding it away from hers, and put his arm around her shoulders to pull her a little closer. She leant into the one-armed embrace with a weak smile. “And you, my darling Pearl, you must simply learn to do as I do – to ignore what is said by people who do not matter.”

“How am I to know who matters and who doesn’t?” she asked. “There are some who could easily end anything good about my reputation. Should I say that they do not matter?”

“The list over folk who matter is thankfully quite short,” Ferumbras chuckled. “Look to your family. What they say will always mean more than what the grocer might whisper to the baker. They’ve known you for all your life, and they love you. Besides, look at your aunt Esmeralda – folk were whispering a good deal of nasty things when she married her Brandybuck, but your father put a stop to it. He loves his sister and knows her better than most, and he was more than able to simply put a lid on the pot, so to speak.”

“This isn’t the same,” Pearl sighed. “Ferumbras, this isn’t something that can be stifled so easily. Aunt Esme married a Brandybuck – so what? That has happened often before, and no one has said anything else than that Brandybucks are strange folk. But this? No matter how much my family loves me, it is still up to each individual to believe me or not when I say I didn’t intentionally kill your mother.”

“And folk who know you will know that you tell the truth. You are not known to be a liar, my darling, and you mustn’t waste your time on folk who don’t care whether you’re telling the truth or not.”

They fell silent, and Pearl contemplated her cousin’s words. She had been like that once; before she came to the Great Smials, it hadn’t mattered at all what anyone outside of the family said. Where that confident lass had gone, she couldn’t quite figure out. She’d spent scarcely a year as Lalia’s attendant, and yet it seemed that she had been whittled away and turned into a different person in a matter of weeks.

“I have an idea, my darling,” Ferumbras said suddenly, breaking her out of her reveries. “Tomorrow after elevenses, what say you and I go into town to have a look at the market? Just a little bit of wandering to take your mind off things, and perhaps we might take luncheon at the inn. How does that sound?”

“How on earth is that supposed to take my mind off things?” Pearl asked him incredulously. “It would be worse in town!”

“Consider it an exercise in ignoring cruel words, my darling. It’ll be good for you.” Ferumbras grinned and winked at her. “Why not wear that dove-blue dress you had when you came? It does suit you very well. The necklace I gave you would look wonderful with it.”

Pearl hesitated. She’d not often worn the pearl necklace she’d received as a gift after the whole business with Lalia’s death; folk had seen it once, and there had instantly been rumours about the necklace being a reward for what she’d done. A Took family heirloom was no small thing to give a young lass. But Ferumbras had explained to her then that he had made it a habit to gift something to each of his mother’s attendants – a simple “thank you” for services rendered, and a small “I am very sorry” for anything his mother might have said or done. That he chose an heirloom for Pearl simply boiled down to the fact that she was family, and better the necklace be given to someone who would wear it than let it gather dust in a mathom room.

She peered up at him, waiting briefly to see if he would say that he was joking. But he only gazed back at her, a warm smile and an otherwise unreadable expression on his face. And she smiled back and nodded slowly.

“I cannot promise I will make for good company,” she warned him. “But perhaps I should at the very least try.”

“If it becomes too much, my darling, we will return here,” he promised. “There is no shame in retreat.”

* * *

 

Just after elevenses the following day, Pearl stood in the guestroom and stared at herself in the mirror. She almost thought she saw a stranger in its reflection. The dove-blue dress suited her well, just as Ferumbras had said. Her hair, neatly brushed and combed, looked almost as though it glowed in the light that came through the window. The pearls in the necklace shimmered in the light, but did not look so out of place as she had feared they would. For once, they looked as though they belonged there around her neck. She took a deep breath and smoothed out an imaginary wrinkle on her dress. It would be alright. She had kept telling herself so the entire morning, and she worried that the moment she stopped saying it to herself would be the moment everything collapsed around her.

Her father had been understandably worried when he’d been told that cousin Ferumbras intended to take her for a walk into town. He’d protested and said that there were enough rumours as it was.

“Oh, don’t fret so, Dinny,” Ferumbras had laughed, ignoring the indignant sputtering from Paladin at the old nickname. “I’ll take care of your lass, I promise. She’ll be returned to you after luncheon, all in one piece and without any tears.”

“Rumble, I really don’t think-“ Paladin had started, only to be interrupted by Ferumbras again:

“Then don’t think! You have three other children to worry about and to dote on! You can stand being parted from your eldest for a few hours, I’m sure!”

Pearl couldn’t help but smile to herself as she left the room to go and meet Ferumbras. Her father trusted his cousin, but perhaps not as a companion for one of his children. And her mother, well… To say that Eglantine trusted Ferumbras with her children was the overstatement of the century. But so far, nothing had gone wrong with Pearl – “so far” being the keywords to that sentence. And still Ferumbras neatly sidestepped any and all comments about how he oughtn’t to behave a certain way around the children and simply continued as he were. Pearl had to privately admit that she liked that about him; he didn’t lie, not about who he was, not about anything. Not even to children. If people didn’t like him, then it was their problem and not his.

She’d been the same, once. And if she could find her way back to that part of herself, with or without Ferumbras’ help, she would cling to it as he did. Though clinging did not at all seem to be what he was doing; he wielded his self and his charm so effortlessly, and his confidence was not so much a cloak to hide him as it was a second skin.

Ferumbras waited for her in the entrance hall, accompanied by her father, and he beamed like the sun itself when he saw her.

“Pearl, my darling,” he cried. “Look at you, positively radiant!”

Pearl blushed at the praise, but smiled all the same. Yes, perhaps the day would not be quite so horrible.

Paladin quickly stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug.

“Take care, my lass,” he said softly. “And mind you come back if you do not feel safe, alright? Rumble may not intend to bring you into any trouble, but I trust your good sense more than I trust his. Be careful.”

“It’s a walk into town,” Pearl heard herself say, recognising her old no-nonsense-tone. Where on earth had that been for the past two years? “We are hardly walking all the way to Bree. I’ll be quite alright, father, I promise.”

Paladin raised an eyebrow at her words and glanced over at Ferumbras, who only grinned at him and took Pearl’s hand.

“We’ll be back sometime after luncheon,” he said blithely. “Don’t let Eglantine lead a search-party on our behalf. And mind you don’t let your son burn the Smials down; I’d like to find my home still standing when I get back!”

And with that elegant parting-shot, he pulled Pearl along out the door and shut it firmly behind them. He released her hand and offered his arm, and Pearl took it without thinking and allowed herself to be led down the road. He kept a brisk pace, his walking stick beating out a steady rhythm against the gravel. And as they walked, they chatted about this and that, about the doings of the family and other matters. Lonely as he’d seemed to her sometimes, Ferumbras did love a good conversation, and Pearl was quite happy to oblige. He laughed when she spoke of different things that had happened at the farm, and he laughed when telling her of what had happened in the Great Smials since they’d last seen each other. He laughed often, did Ferumbras, and it lightened her heart to hear it.

As they approached the last bend in the road and could hear people chattering not too far off, Pearl began to shrink in on herself. She could practically hear the whisperings behind her back already, and she considered momentarily if she had underestimated how well the walk would actually go. But Ferumbras gave her arm a slight squeeze and leant down to whisper in her ear:

“Just breathe, my darling. Hold your head high and keep your shoulders back and your back straight. Hold on to my arm. I’m right here.”

Pearl took a deep breath to steel herself and straightened a little. She matched his posture and raised her head, forcing away the anxious expression on her face. It would be alright. She would be alright. And Ferumbras smiled and gave her an encouraging nod, and so they turned the last bend in the road.

Conversations around them did not stop, or even so much as pause, when they reached the market square. People did not seem to take much notice of their presence, although some would occasionally call out a greeting to Ferumbras. They’d been there for quite a while already when Pearl heard the slightest hint of a whisper.

“Look at the lass on his arm! I’m surprised he lets her near him, after what she did to his mother…”

But the words scarcely had time to register in her mind before Ferumbras spoke to her again, drawing her attention away from the cold words and back to him. So it continued as they wandered around the market stalls; as soon as her ears picked up on the whispers, Ferumbras would raise his voice to drown them out or draw her away from where they were to look at something else. And the whispers were not quite as bad as she had feared, and fewer than she had anticipated.

“I’d go batty if I were them. Can you imagine how dreadfully and painfully boring their lives must be, for them to speak of people they don’t even know in such a fashion?” Ferumbras whispered in her ear at one point, causing her to quickly cover her mouth with one hand to stifle a laugh. “What on earth do you think they do all day when they aren’t gossiping? Throw apples at each other so they have something to gripe about?”

It wasn’t long before she was laughing openly at some of the things he would say to her, and each time it happened only seemed to encourage him to try to coax another laugh out of her. Every joke he made and every story he told would be more absurd than the last, and Pearl was soon reaching for her handkerchief to wipe away tears of mirth from her cheeks.

As they wandered, Pearl took the opportunity to buy a few gifts for her family; her birthday would come soon, and it would be best to have at least a few presents prepared so that she would not have to rush later. Ferumbras gave his input on a few on them, and helped her choose hair-ribbons for Pervinca and earrings for Pimpernel. For a bachelor, he had quite a good eye for colour and shape, and she told him as much once they had picked out the earrings.

“I’m a bachelor, not celibate,” he told her. There was an odd twinkle in his eye as he spoke, and she almost blushed as she understood the meaning of his words. “I have spent enough time around lasses to know how to see what hues of colour suit them best, or to figure out what shapes would look nice; I’d have to know that if I ever wanted to gift them anything. The colour of her name-flower has always suited Pervinca very nicely, and Pimpernel loves the shape of her name-flower, so earrings with little pimpernel flowers are perfect for her. Easy.”

“And for me?” Pearl asked curiously.

Ferumbras hummed and eyed her thoughtfully before he gave her a warm smile.

“Dove-blue or white for colour,” he said. “White looks nice, but it gets fairly boring very fast. Dove blue is still quite pale, but it stands out just enough. That’s why I liked the dress you’re wearing. Dove-blue with white details – it suits you beautifully. As for shapes, I’d say round or teardrop. Simple and practical shapes suit you best.”

Pearl wondered briefly just how many lasses Ferumbras had told similar things, but decided against asking him; she doubted that he would mind telling her all about it, but there were simply things she did not need to know. Besides, he was not wrong in his assessment.

As luncheon came, they went to the inn and were promptly greeted by a chorus of voices calling out to them as soon as they opened the door. Ferumbras seemed to know a good deal of the people there, and he grinned and waved at them.

“Isn’t that lass a little too young for you?” called a hobbit from a corner. “What did you lure her with, eh, Rumble?”

“Isn’t your wife a decade older than you?” Ferumbras answered as he led a blushing Pearl over to a table. “Learn to keep that big nose of yours out of other people’s business and let my cousin and I have our meal in peace, and perhaps said big nose won’t be broken again.”

Hoots of laughter sounded around them, but they were indeed left in peace after the initial greetings. Pearl could hear no cruel whispers in there, and Ferumbras seemed quite content to chat about this and that or answer any questions she might ask. For the first time in about two years, Pearl felt almost at peace.

As they ate, Ferumbras regaled her with stories about his younger years, most notably about how Pearl’s father had once gotten stuck in an unused room and cornered by rats during a birthday party.

“So that’s why he’s so afraid of rats,” Pearl laughed. “Stars, but you must have been so worried when you couldn’t find him!”

“Well, it was rather in keeping with what he was like at the time,” Ferumbras chuckled. “His father said not to do something, he would most certainly do it. I told him not to do something because I would get angry if he did, and he would most likely stick to my side like glue for the rest of the day. He always worried more about disappointing me than his father. But well, to be told to mind the little children and then turn around and find Paladin gone, that was quite a scare. He still apologises about that every now and then. Always so worried that I’ll stop liking him.”

“Is that why you came to visit us so often?” Pearl asked curiously. “I know neither grandfather nor father wanted to go to the Great Smials because of Lalia, but, well…”

“Oh, it was an escape for me too.” Ferumbras grinned and winked at her and took a swig of his ale. “Half the time I’d not tell my mother that I was leaving. Of course she was frightfully angry when I did deign to come back home, but it did wonders for my sanity to spend a few days at your farm. And it helped that once Paladin and Eglantine began to have little ones, you all proved to be absolute delights.”

“You call Pippin a little vandal on a regular basis,” Pearl reminded him.

“And I am fairly convinced that no male hobbit child with Took-blood in their veins grow up without some form of a vandal-phase. Peregrin is very much his father’s son – looks just like Paladin did back in the day, and behaves much the same way. Don’t tell your father I said that, he’d just get angry and deny everything.”

Pearl couldn’t help but laugh again. She had fond memories of her cousin’s visits to the farm; considering his age, she and her siblings had often expected him to be fairly boring and to mostly sit and talk with their father, but Ferumbras had proved to be a good deal of fun to have around. He’d played with them; he’d taught them about different plants and what they could be used for; he’d shown them how to make flower-crowns and the easiest way to get into a tree where the branches were just out of their reach. He’d taught Pearl to waltz when she had just reached her tweens, and he had happily danced with her at the summer-fair in Michel Delving that same year.

Once the meal was over, they gathered their purchases and began to make their way back to the Great Smials. They walked arm in arm, and though Pearl still felt a small sting of anxiety as they passed the market square, she only clutched Ferumbras’ arm a little tighter and listened to the general chatter instead of straining to hear any whispers.

“It’s a shame you shall have to go home soon,” Ferumbras told her once they were away from the general bustle of the town and on the road back towards the Smials. “I daresay this has been the most pleasant few hours I’ve had in quite a long while.”

Pearl looked up at his smiling face and found herself smiling back at him. She bumped him lightly with her elbow.

“Don’t be silly,” she said. “Of course I’ll come to visit, as often as I can.”

“It’ll be easier without that old bat hovering over us, don’t you think?” Ferumbras laughed when she swatted at him and only patted her arm in response. “Oh, don’t reprimand me for that! I lived with her for well over eighty years – if anyone has the right to call her an old bat or anything worse than that, it’s me!”

“You were right, by the way,” Pearl stated after a moment of thought. “This was good for me. It wasn’t… Well, it wasn’t as good as I would have wanted it to be, but it wasn’t awful. You being here with me helped, of course. I wouldn’t ever have been able to do this on my own.”

“It gets better with time,” Ferumbras promised her. “Time and practice. If you had told me before we reached the town that you didn’t want to go on, I would simply have steered us elsewhere – perhaps through the fields and then back home. But you never did, and I’m proud of you for seeing it through.” He tilted his head and smiled at her again. “You are very dear to me, Pearl. I’d never want to do something to hurt you. I hope you know that.”

Pearl briefly relinquished her hold on him and placed her arm instead around his waist in a one-armed hug. And Ferumbras laughed and placed his arm around her shoulders, holding her close as they walked.

“I love you too, Rumble,” she said earnestly. “And thank you.”

“Were I some five decades or so younger, I am certain I would take those words the wrong way,” Ferumbras chuckled. “But they do lighten my heart, my darling. Come now; let’s get you back to your parents before they wonder if I actually did take you to Bree.”

* * *

 

“Are you certain, Pearl?” Paladin asked. She could tell that he was trying very hard not to sound worried, but it bled through so easily. “There are plenty of rooms you could take. You don’t have to take these.”

“It feels right,” Pearl answered steadily, giving her father a warm smile. “It will be some time before I marry, at any rate, so I shan’t need more space.”

Paladin frowned somewhat as he unlocked the door to the little bachelor pad. Nothing had been moved from there; there simply hadn’t been time after the previous occupant’s death and Paladin’s rather sudden rise to being the head of the family and the Thain. And Pearl felt something settle deep within her when she stepped into the rooms, and she smiled.

“I think I might keep most of what’s in here,” she admitted. “But of course there will be a few things that I may have to put into storage.”

“His clothes,” Paladin commented drily. “His journals.”

“Oh, the journals I might keep. I should like to know more of what he was thinking that he never told anyone.”

Pearl walked into the little room that served as a small parlour and looked around. It was just as she remembered it. The same settee by the fire, the same big old armchair, the same table. The scent of pipeweed still hung in the air, clinging to the furniture and the walls. Above the fireplace hung three portraits; one of them she immediately decided that she would put into storage. But the other two, the ones of old Fortinbras Took and of dear old Ferumbras, those she would keep.

“I don’t see why you insist on Ferumbras’ rooms,” Paladin sighed. “There are plenty of quarters here in the Great Smials that would be more comfortable.”

“I like it here.” Pearl laughed as she turned to face her father. “It feels like home to me, I suppose. You just don’t like tight spaces.”

“I also don’t like the thought of sleeping in a bed where they found a dead hobbit,” Paladin grumbled. “And I don’t like the idea of you sleeping there either.”

“If Ferumbras’ spirit was to spontaneously return from the grave when I go to bed tonight, it would be solely to make an awful joke about me finally being in his bed. Then he’d apologise and ask me if I wanted tea and a chat or some privacy.” Pearl grinned remorselessly at her father’s reproachful look; she could see the corners of his mouth twitching in his effort to not smile. “Father, don’t you fret so. I’ll be quite comfortable here. And as I said, I shan’t be marrying yet, so this is more than enough for me.”

Paladin watched her thoughtfully for a moment before he spoke again:

“Is it because of Ferumbras that you’ll wait with marrying?”

“Well, not precisely,” Pearl stated. “He may have put the idea in my head, but it isn’t what you are thinking. Of course I love Fosco, but I need time – time to be my own a little longer, to grow comfortable and set down roots here. Does that make sense?”

Her father only nodded. Soon enough she was alone again, left to have a look around and decide what she wanted to do with all the things stuffed into the rooms. Though he would have denied it vehemently if he’d been present, Ferumbras had been a little bit of a packrat, Pearl thought; here and there she found old mathoms that she remembered seeing as a small child, and there were boxes upon boxes of correspondence tucked neatly away in every corner. Even the bedroom had not been spared of those. She even found a few boxes containing the letters she had sent him during their long correspondence.

As she worked, she felt again that something settled within her – like a millstone that has jumped out of place and is finally returned to where it ought to be. She had not felt at all comfortable with the thought of living in the Great Smials when the news came that her cousin was dead and that her father would succeed him; but when told that she would eventually grow to be as comfortable there as she had been on the farm, the idea had come to her that there was a single place in the grand old mansion of the Tooks that she found comfortable at all.

Perhaps it would be seen as strange. Perhaps people would talk. But Pearl couldn’t help but laugh to herself when she imagined what folk would say about her taking the old Thain’s rooms. There had been a good deal of talk already about the two of them, about their correspondence and about the time they spent together whenever one visited the other. And Ferumbras had laughed until he cried when he’d heard of those rumours.

“So not only am I unsociable and make crass jokes,” he’d managed to wheeze out between bouts of laughter. “But apparently I am also a cradle-robber! Stars above, my darling, did I not tell you that people lead boring lives?”

She had grown comfortable with those rumours after a bit of time; it had been horrifying at first, of course, but little by little it had become quite a joke between them. Ferumbras had still called her his darling, and she had responded by often attaching the word “dearest” before his name. But he had encouraged her when he had noticed her attachment to Fosco Hornblower, and he had spoken to the lad himself and made it abundantly clear how dear Pearl was to him and what would happen if she was hurt. And still the rumours flew, and Fosco would often ask why on earth they existed at all; and Pearl would laugh and shake her head and say that some folk had too much time on their hands and no sense in their heads.

Now that he was gone, she would have to manage those rumours on her own. Perhaps people would see the Thain’s eldest daughter as a little bit mad, but she could live with that. The old rumours of what she had done to Ferumbras’ mother still resurfaced every now and then, and she had learned to laugh even at those.

And as she crawled into the bed late that evening and wrapped herself up in the blankets, she smiled to herself. Ferumbras might be gone, but the memories he had given her would remain.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact! Pearl was 27 years old when Lalia died.  
> Another fun fact! She was excluded from Ferumbras' accession ceremony because of her involvement in Lalia's death, but was later seen wearing a necklace of pearls believed to be a Took famly heirloom - which was, in a fairly cruel manner, taken to be a reward for the "accident".  
> Fun fact number 3! Ferumbras Took III never married, and it is heavily implied that this was due to the fact that no hobbit would want Lalia as their mother-in-law.
> 
> Ferumbras, to me, is not a happy hobbit. He grew up with an overly domineering and fairly unpleasant mother, and once his father died, he had to deal with that on his own. To me, he seems like someone who would cover up depression and anxiety with humour. In Pearl, he sees someone else who has suffered because of his mother, and he takes her under his wing out of sheer instinct - to protect her, and nothing more.


End file.
